An Important Mission
by machievelli
Summary: The Corellians need a special team to complete a mission. But the leader of that team is an escaped convict from one of their own prisons. So it's a delicate dance to convince him and his battle hardened crew of renegades. But those first steps do not go well... Rating is for future chapters if any
1. The Offer

"Ten Hutt!" The sergeant snapped to his feet as Sana Boro marched down the center aisle. Sure she was a Corsec Lieutenant, but this was no ordinary mission for Special Ops.

She walked past the fifteen men and women to the podium. She inserted the data chip. And the outpost they would be operating on came up on the hologram. "Corellian outpost fifteen. Four transits away from home. We will be interdicting the ship _Black Talon_, Mik Daron commanding."

"About time."

Her eyes moved over to Sergeant Cole of the second squad. "About time for what?"

"That traitor should have died for Whereagon."

"You misapprehend our mission. We are to contact Captain Daron, and offer him and his crew a full pardon for all actions against Corellia in return for an important mission."

What idiot came up with that?"

"The president." She cocked her head. "Now will you sit down, shut up, and allow me, only a mere lieutenant, to continue the mission brief?" Cole, who had stood defiantly sat grumbling. "Good." She pointed at the holo.

"One man will be here with both a sniper rifle and an anti-air missile launcher." She touched the control tower for the five docking bays. "He will on my orders, or if it falls to adverse negotiations, disable the _Black Talon_, then eliminate any of the crew who return fire. First squad, you will be on the berm, and move to positions to fire into the landing bay at need. Second squad, you will be in the outpost in these buildings." She highlighted three buildings. "If you are on the upper floors, you can fire down into the docking bay from your positions."

She shut down the holo projector. "Let us all be clear on this. Unless I order it, none of you are to fire at all, even if the _Black Talon _departs. Is that understood?"

"So one of them sees us and starts blasting, and we just stand there like idiots and let them kill us?" Cole's voice was acidic enough to etch battle steel.

"Of course not. If you are fired upon, you may return fire. But I warn you now, the first thing we will do is link into all of the sensors of the docking control and inventory system. So I will know after the fact who fired the first shot. If I find that any of you opened fire without a direct threat, I will tie him or her to the hull without a suit for our return home. Is that quite clear?"

There was grumbling, but they nodded. "Suit up, and board ship. We leave in fifteen." She walked down the silent aisle.

II

Outpost fifteen was just a moon with a marginal atmosphere orbiting a totally worthless planet. Not many people lived there, the last census listed less than two hundred full time inhabitants, and most of them were service personnel for the ships that went to and from the Corellian system itself. Sana and her team had arrived the day before Captain Daron's ship, and they had occupied transient quarters near their positions except for herself and the man assigned to be the sniper/air gunner. While seemingly calm and collected, she was worried about what would happen when she confronted Daron. It had been two years since his trial and imprisonment. She had not been surprised at all by his escape; the man she knew never stayed anywhere he didn't want to be or felt unwelcome. In fact that escape was now used as a training scenario for the Prison he had escaped from. An as yet unbeaten scenario.

"Contact." Jak Willan reported. The laconic sniper didn't have to point, she could see clearly through the spotter's scope. There he was, Mik Daron, with a woman hanging on his arm. She watched sourly as they went into a cantina.

"All right." She replied coolly, then tapped her earbud. "Stations." She ordered. There were only two sets of clicks, one from each of her sergeants. "Take your position, Willan." Then she stood away from the window. She walked out, and down to the turbolift. As the door closed, she found her fingers running through her hair. She stopped herself, grumbling. Why did she care what she looked like for him?

The street was not that busy; second shift was at work, first was already home or drinking. The sun was behind the planet, giving the entire moon a twilight gloaming. She came to the cantina, pausing for a moment, then entered.

Compared to outside, the interior was as bright as day. Not many customers, but it was early yet. Mik was sitting at a table where he could watch the door, but wasn't. He was instead cuddling with the woman with him. She sighed, walking across the room. She was halfway there before he even noticed her. He leaned back, the woman flowing against him like a well worn piece of clothing, and her eyes marked Sana as well.

She finally stood before the table, but Mik still hadn't said anything. He and the woman merely watched her, the woman with a catlike intensity. After a long moment, Sana couldn't take it any more. "Mik-"

"That's Captain Duron to you, lieutenant." He cut her off, but it was merely a correction, like telling any junior to use his rank rather than a more familiar greeting.

She nodded, acknowledging the hit. "May I have a word with you?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "Talk is cheap."

Her eyes cut to the woman. "In private?"

"Ah, a _secret_ talk." He sounded amused. "_Zakal, Gee_."

The woman stood languidly, walking around the table, then stopped close enough to whisper. "Hurt him again _Osik_, and I make sure you take a week to die." Then continued on her sinuous walk out of the room.

Sana watched her walk past, then looked to Mik. "I remember when you were more discerning in your bedmates."

"There was such a time." He agreed. "But that was before the love of my life first let Corsec arrest me, then didn't even bother to show up until my sentencing." Mik merely looked at her.

She pulled out the chair opposite him, sitting. "I was arrested at the same time you were, and spent four _days_ being interrogated by intelligence in hopes I could help them prove you guilty. I spent two and a half _weeks_ finding out what the hell was going on, and when I arrived saw you dragged out already condemned."

"And what did you do with all of that data?" He asked lightly.

"I gave it to my father."

He smiled, and for the first time, she saw approval. "Good for you. How is the old man?"

"He died almost two years ago."

He sighed.

"He always wanted to apologize for his assumption-"

"He did." At her confused look, he added, "He came to see me a week after I began to serve my sentence." He smiled. "Of course I understood why he said it. It was a given that some slum kid of Cornet dating his daughter meant I was hoping for a safe staff position instead of a real field position. Everyone knows that."

They both pictured that scene; the slum kid talking to the father of the woman he loved, scion of a military family, and the resultant argument. Mik had stormed out promising never to return. But Sana had not only pursued, but drawn him into her bed.

"How is he?"

"He died. About a week after you saw him last."

Mik's gentle smile vanished. "Who was last with him?"

"Connor Latiforns, Aide to General-"

"I know the whelp's patron." He snapped. Then he sighed, leaning back. "Cut to the chase, Sana. Why did you come here."

"I was sent by the president. There is a mission that needs your skills." At his curious expression, she went on. "You have a small team of highly trained personnel. One of the best slicers in the galaxy, and arguably the best demolitions man in the business-"

"Woman." He cut in. "You met her a few moments ago. Go on."

"No one is better equipped on short notice to carry the mission out."

The smile was back, but it was neither gentle, nor happy. "Oh really. And who, by chance sent you?"

"I was assigned by the President himself."

"Excuse me if I don't fall down and worship at the mention of the office. What is the payoff for this mission?"

"Full pardon for your entire crew."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Not interested in just walking back into a cell, thank you."

"Mik, he's given his word of honor-" She stopped at the cold snarl.

"I wouldn't believe him if he said the sun is going to come up tomorrow." He cocked his head. "We'll do it, on a few conditions."

She felt her heart lift. "Go ahead."

"First, half a million credits tax free." He saw the sad look in her eyes, and waited for a long moment. "That money to be paid immediately to the families of my team who died on my last mission." Now she looked puzzled. "Remember? They claim it was an unsanctioned mission. Illegal. So they don't have to pay death benefits or pensions. Gunny Riis already had twenty-five years in, but his widow and children haven't seen a pence of it. I should know; I still have friends back home.

"Second, that pardon is to be for all crimes against Corellian interests ever committed before this date. Your Intelligence doesn't even know about the really juicy ones yet, and I don't want to deal with hunter-killer teams because of it. Are we agreed so far?"

She nodded her head slowly. "I can report those conditions, and don't see a reason why they should be rejected."

"Wait, there's more." He took out a slim pocket-pad, and slid it over. "I want these men bound with space line on the landing stage when I arrive. I intend to attach a tow cable and drag them into space with me when I leave."

She reached across, pulling it to her, then brought up the screen. "The commander of Special operations his deputy and their aides, the Commander of third army group, the General of the armies in command when you were tried, and his aide, Connor Latiforns, the Minister of Defense, and... the President?" She looked at him in horror. "Are you insane?"

"I remember from my middle school civics class, and from my time in the Academy. A senior officer is responsible for his subordinates. If your subordinate commits a crime, you deal with it in house. That responsibility goes right up the chain of command to the President's office." He leaned forward. "So when you have been accused of an illegal action, one that had been sanctioned until you returned home, and you are charged with a crime for it, who is responsible?

"I went where we were sent, on orders. I led my men into a mincing machine to complete my mission and three quarters of them died in that abattoir. We were home barely long enough to mourn before the 'court of inquiry' decided we had acted without orders. It usually takes a week to ten days to empanel such a court and make a determination. They took less than thirty-six hours.

"It usually takes the same amount of time to empanel a court martial board, and anywhere from three weeks to three months to hear all relevant testimony before rendering a verdict. It took them less than a day to empanel that court, and thanks to the expedient of denying every defense motion, and refusing to call any defense witnesses, they finished the entire court martial from opening bell to sentencing in the two and a half weeks you were looking for clues little miss detective."

"What do you mean, refusing to call defense witnesses?"

"Under military law, if a senior officer is believed to have given a specific order, you can have him called to testify. My orders came from the deputy commander Special operations through his aide. That little whelp said he was there with the butt he always kissed when the Commander Special Ops received the order From Commander 3rd Army. So my counsel called them all. The court determined that they would not allow me to waste their valuable time trying to create a farrago of lies."

He gave her a savage grin. "Of course that has been tried before, but it stopped when they began using the Verifier. All you have to do is ask a few simple questions, 'do you know anything of relevance to the case we are hearing? Have you issued any orders that have a bearing on this case?' They answer those no, and the Verifier tells you they are the truth, you are done. But what if the says they are lying? Then suddenly I am an observer and it's their fat asses in the dock.

"So to keep themselves on the cocktails and canapes circuit, they convinced the court to violate military law and refuse to call those witnesses."

But your appeal! You escaped before the process even started!"

"Are you really naive enough to believe they'd let me live long enough to see my appeal? First my counsel was killed in a vehicular accident, meaning they have to assign another one. Then your father arrives to see me, and warns the guards and warden that he will be taking a special interest in my welfare. Then his aide came to visit. Not me, but Simo Trega, my premier slicer. Of course by then your father was already dead, and so were Conor Pills and Sento Maxin. The other two survivors of my team. I knew they were dead because while I was in solitary confinement, they brought them in and beat them to death in front of me, then told me that Trega and I were next, and no one was left to complain."

He looked at his watch. "Time to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"To my ship." He stood, gesturing. "Will you accompany me for old time sake?"

She stood, and they walked together. She wanted to take his arm like old times, to walk like a couple, instead of a pair of strangers. "Please, Mik, this will give you a chance to start over."

"I have started over. Thanks to your father's last gift, we escaped from that hell hole, and I found people to work with. I did it by burning all my bridges and leaving 'home' behind me. I don't have to go back to Corellia to have a life, I am living one right now."

"So what do I tell the President?"

"I've told you what to tell him. If this mission is so vital, he will give me everything I want first. Or he can pound sand."

She sighed, and touched her communicator.

"I wouldn't." He said. She looked up, and he was watching. They had reached docking bay four where _Black Talon _rested. "At least until you see what's behind the blast doors." He hit the button to open them. Down the zig zag entryway that would channel and weaken any explosion in the bay, then she stared at the ship. It was an older CEC Model 91, a flat disk with a drooping cockpit thrust from her nose. On either side of the hull she had heavy Mk 19 pulse cannon aimed forward, and what were obviously anti-fighter guns above and below. A redheaded Echani woman was in the pilot's seat, and waved, then gave Mik a thumbs up. He returned it, then jerked his head to the side.

Directly in the focus of the portside cannon, her entire team stood close together. No, they were tied in what a slum kid would call a Corellian Necklace; hands tied wrist to wrist in the small of their back, then their elbows bound tightly to the people on either side. Unless they coordinated their movements, there was no way to run, and as the womans she had already met demonstrated, it made prisoner control easier. She was standing to the side, a feral grin on her face. She walked down the line of sullen men and women, then suddenly the short staff in her hand snapped to full extension, and she clipped one of them behind the knees, making him drop. The others were dragged down as well when he did, so there were now fifteen people kneeling and glaring at Mik.

"That was... Unkind, Zakal."

"So punish me for it later." She walked around the line, handing him a pad. For a moment, he looked at it. "The ugly one had this in his pocket."

"You have to be more specific, Zakal."

"The big ugly one." She motioned toward Cole.

"You must have told them you would check the sensor net in case there was a firefight." He commented.

"Why?" He handed her the pad. Cole had sliced the sensors, and there was a red dot _inside_ the berm.

He tapped the pad. "If you had checked, this would have told you that one of my crew fired outward when big and ugly started shooting."

A man came down the ship's ramp. He threw his hair out of his eyes as he trotted over. "Last load's aboard." He smiled and nodded. "Miss Sana."

"Long time no see, Trega."

"Now that old home week is over, we had best be on our way." Mik cut into the pleasantries. "Where are their weapons?"

"In the space crate." Zakal pointed. "We didn't lock it, but it's sealed rather tightly."

"So you can cut them loose once we're lifting." Mik commented, pulling a folding knife from his pocket handing it to Sana. "But have a care."

"But sir, the anti air missile launcher is still mounted in position, and it was set for-" Trega began.

"I am sure you corrected that problem, didn't you?"

"Well of course but I should warn-"

"Enough. Board." He took Sana's hand, and gently kissed it. Until we meet again." He motioned, and Zakal grinned running aboard, followed at a more sedate pace by her captain.

Sana sighed, then walked over to her team. She started on the end, and began cutting them free. In the middle, Cole was struggling with his bindings, cursing, and demanding that the lieutenant get a move on. "Stop you're whining, Sergeant. We don't have anything that will even dent their hull in that crate." The ship began to purr as her engines came up, then lifted sedately. As she finished cutting Cole free the man ran across the bay, and opened the crate by the simple expedient of lifting it and smashing it into the ceramacrete blast wall. Then he began pawing frantically through what was released.

"Ma'am," Willan said as she reached him. "Sergeant Cole had me rig the anti-air missile on a crew mount with an auto target auto fire sequence, then had me paint their hull to get a target read." At the horror on her face he added. "All he needs is my pad to blow her to hell."

"Cole!" She screamed. The man gave a triumphant cry, spun looking up, and hit the send key. She looked upward, expecting to see the man she still loved killed before her eyes as she heard the thud of the gas launching charge, then the scream of the tiny engine. But the explosion came not from above them where _Black Talon_ had gone to hover. Instead it came from her left about three hundred meter.

She watched the debris lift from the missile strike, then several secondary explosions. The entire team stared that way. Now she understood why Mik had been so busy shushing Trega. The man had a wicked sense of humor, and he would have thought it funny to set another target...

"Isn't that-" Sergeant DeFrees began.

"Our ship? Oh my yes it is." She watched as Black Talon lifted away and shot upward. "Sergeant, disarm and arrest Sergeant Cole."

"On what charge? Cole screamed.

She turned, and the larger man backed away from her cold look. "We start with attempting to circumvent my orders. Then for destruction of government property in excess of 35,000 credits. You're just lucky I'm not strapping you to the hull for the return home, because obviously," she waved toward the fires in docking bay 16 where her ship had been, "we have no hull to strap you to.

"Carry out my orders."


	2. The Reply

III

It took three days to get back home. There were no ships to rent, and none to buy passage on. So They waited until the next warship came through, and commandeered space on it. After turning Cole over to the JAG office for disciplinary action, with a word from Sana that if he got a slap on the wrist she would harrow their office with a heavy projectile rifle, she headed to the Presidential palace.

She didn't take no, or he was busy, or he was in a meeting for an answer. Her reply was merely that if he was so busy that he couldn't give her time to report on the mission he thought was so important, she would go home, have a drink, and he could go to hell in his own fashion, because she wasn't coming back.

When the fourth functionary tried to divert her she merely said, "Sobeit, to hell with him," and turned on her heel. She didn't even make it out of the lobby. An hour and a half after she entered the building, she was finally in the President's office. She marched over, snapped a salute, and stood at attention, staring at the wall beyond him half a meter above his head.

"I'm trying to remember what I'm supposed to say. Wait, stand at ease, Lieutenant." She snapped to parade rest, still refusing to look at him. "Please, Lieutenant Boro. Don't make this so hard for me." She relented, looking down into his face. "We expected you back much sooner. Did you give my message to Captain Daron?" She nodded. "And his reply?"

"Would you like the polite version, or his own words?"

The man sighed, leaning back. "That bad, eh? Will he take the mission?"

"With conditions." At his slightly impatient gestures, she continued. "Half a million credits tax free to be distributed to the families of his dead from that last mission. Since it is claimed to be unsanctioned, the families received no death benefits. Then a pardon for his present team for all crimes against our national interests including those we do not yet know were committed by them."

"All easily done, when will he be here?"

"There's more, sir." She took the pad Mik had given her, placing it on his desk, and sliding it across with a finger. "All of these men, bound when he arrives so he can drag them into death pressure."

The President activated the device, and scanned. She could tell when he reached his own name and office, because he went white as a sheet. "Is he insane?"

"He is furious. As he pointed out to me, his orders came from the Aide of the deputy commander Special operations. An Aide is always assumed to be speaking for the officer he serves directly. That man, and the others mentioned were present when the mission orders were passed."

"I was not!"

"As President, you are responsible for the actions of your subordinates as Commander in Chief. He pointed out that it is what is taught in middle school Civics, and he was holding you to that inherent bargain. He also pointed out the glaring inconsistencies in his own court of inquiry and the alacrity with which his subsequent court martial board was convened. That court martial sent four good men to prison, and two of them were beaten to death before him just to prove that no one was going to stop them from killing the others. The government that did so is now saying 'come home, all is forgiven'." She sighed. "He doesn't believe you.

"So I think he feels a bit of blood price is due. Fourteen dead men worth." _Fifteen_ she thought coldly. _They owe me for my father as well._

He pushed the pad aside. "I will not offer my life up as a sacrifice on his altar of justice, Lieutenant. What I will do is order a full investigation into the matter."

She sighed. "I wouldn't bother, sir. This was two years ago. Within hours of his sentencing, my father opened his own investigation. Whatever he discovered caused him to take a personal interest in the well being of these men. Less than a ten day later he was dead in a shuttle accident, along with fifteen civilians and his aide. When I checked his personal computer, I found file names, but when I tried to find them in the military data base, they had been erased.

"There is no evidence to find anymore, and you cannot have them arrested and put under a Verifier to question without probable cause of a specific crime." She shrugged. "I took Civics too, Mr. President. Something about limiting police powers except in an Emergency."

"But we need him!"

"Frankly, sir. He flat out doesn't care. I would suggest sending a team still under your orders." His face went still, and she cocked her head. "Is that a problem sir? If I remember correctly, there are fourteen teams remaining in Special Operations."

"There are, but that is the problem." He sighed, moving his chair back and forth as if he were a gunner looking for a target. "When we found out what our problem was, the Deputy Commander of Special Operations called in the Captain in charge of Team Cassius. When he received his orders, the captain replied, and I quote, 'I respectfully decline. We lost one team because of your political maneuvering already, and you're not having mine as well'.

"He was relieved on the spot, and the leader of Team Daleth was ordered to report. He instead sent his resignation. Followed within the hour by the resignations not only of the team commanders, but of the team members themselves, except for one team."

She felt a rush of joy. She had always wondered about why Mik was so protective of his team before, now she understood. They may not have been able to prove it, but they had known that it was a farce when Mik and his surviving team members were tried, convicted, and sent to prison. They were soldier, the best of the best. That made them family under the skin as well.

_Hurt my family, expect no pity from me!_ She wracked her brain. All but one...

"So Alpha team is still on the books. Send them out." She replied calmly, even though she knew the answer.

"Alpha team is still in training, or so I am told."

Of course they were. When it was noticed that being on a Special Ops team guaranteed you were going to rise in rank like a meteor, every little sycophant had decided to jump on the speed-train to their General's Stars. At least until they found out the hard truths of the missions they were sent on.

Surviving five years in a Special Ops team was hard work. Like a new trooper in combat, 90 percent of their casualties were in the first _month_ if you counted actual combat and not the interim time. They lost 3 percent a year in _training_ accidents, three hundred percent of what was considered acceptable in routine training. The wiser little rank seekers got into staff positions instead, slower, more steady, and definitely safer. But some still wanted to get in the fast lane. If only it could be made safer...

And so Team Alpha was born. Everyone of them a political animal. If stood side by side with any other team they looked as good, trained just as hard, but they were never assigned to combat ops. Not after one entire Alpha team had been lost on what every other Special Warrior would have called a Blue Milk run with guns.

Back when she was younger, Sana had seen some delicate and beautiful sculpture from one of the ancient tribes of her world. They had never created hard tools except for chipped stone, but one thing they did have in abundance was an inedible soft, waxy tallow from ancient animals that had become extinct before mankind arose on the planet. And that is what they carved.

Team Alpha was a tallow sculpture beside the durasteel of the real teams. In the blast furnace of a standard op, they would melt away just as fast, while the other teams would endure. Singed. Blackened, maybe melted a little, but they would endure.

The President looked at her for a long moment. "You have given me an idea. Will you obey my orders? Or am I about receive yeat another resignation?"

"I know it is not the answer you would like, sir, but may I hear the orders first?"

IV

It was surprising how easy it was to stage what might be called a coup. The President needed people he knew were not part of the plot, who were loyal to the point of destroying their career, who would act as he wished. He needed Sana to get them.

Her respect for the man grew as she watched him make the holo recordings, one for her to show to the men he needed, another for her return to the palace the next day, and a third to be given to them when they left the palace on his orders. When he had been in the University, his minor had been theater arts, and as he made the recordings, he stopped them, gave direction to the recorder to make the holo carry out specific acts, then had it back up so the actual monologue was flawless.

All she had to do, was go to one specific bar on the outskirts of Cornet, and ask to speak with a member of the Special Ops teams that had resigned in protest. She was there for less than an hour before a cold faced man with an illegal blaster prodded her, and escorted her into a back room. She explained her mission, and theirs. She also showed them the first recording.

The next morning, she arrived at the Palace with eight heavily armed men. The fact that every weapon they carried was illegal might have caused problems, but that was what the second recording was for. As they reached the first guard post, and the men at that post stiffened and drew weapons, she held up her hand with that second recording.

"The person holding this device is Lieutenant Sana Boro of Corsec. She is acting on my verbal orders to bring the men with her to me directly. I have ordered all visual scanners in the palace to record, and anyone who impedes them in any manner will have to explain to me personally by what authority they refuse my orders." As he spoke of the scanners, the holo pointed at all of them that could range on where they stood.

"There will be no report made of this order, or of these men to be filed. The comm channels are also monitored, and any report recorded will be grounds for arrest for complicity. Complicity in what has not yet been determined, but it will be. Message ends."

Needless to say except for people who watched wide eyed as they marched past, there was no report.

They gathered in a side room off the main conference room of the President, and Sana walked into that room. The President waved idly to her, then motioned for her to stand behind him on the right. Once she had assumed her place, he pressed a button. "Send them in, please."

They entered, the Minister of Defense first with his aides, who, while confused, obeyed the President when he told them to leave. Behind the Minister came the Chief of Staff of the Army, the commander of Third Army Group. Surprising her, the Commander of First Army Group was also there, but she understood when she saw who his new aide was. Then followed The Commander and Deputy Commander of Special operations. Unlike the Minister's aides, the military aides were not told to leave.

"We all have very important duties, Mr. President. We really don't have time for emergency meetings, especially secret meetings." The Minister began. "So can we please hurry this one up?"

The President merely looked at the man. "Brig, you as my Defense minister serve at my pleasure. At the moment, I am not at all happy with you. So please be silent until I have had my say. Lieutenant?"

Sana keyed her comm bracelet, merely a click. The side door opened, and the men she had brought into the palace came through the door. They spread out behind and to the president's left.

"I recognize those men!" The deputy commander of Special Ops shouted. "They resigned! They have no right to be here. And they are armed!" The last was said as if he had suddenly noticed they were naked.

The President looked behind him. "So they are. I hope you didn't hurt anyone too badly to gain those weapons, captain?"

"Not too badly, sir." The senior man replied. The President nodded turning back to the men at the table.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Commander of First Army Group demanded.

"Whereagon." The President replied. "Oh we all know what the Military and the press had to say about it. A rogue commander, leading a rogue Special Operations team on an illegal mission that cost us twelve good men. But that is not as the law says, 'the truth and nothing but the truth', is it?" A few of the men facing him went pale at that comment.

"We know, those of you guilty of that tissue of lies and I, that it _was_ a farce from start to finish. All evidence to the contrary no doubt deleted or shredded by now. But I will have the truth of it if I have to rip it from your bleeding bodies." Sana was even more impressed. She had been told by her father, and later learned from observation, that there are three kinds of reactions from officers when they dealt with recalcitrant subordinates. One way was to pitch a monumental tantrum screaming at them. The second, was the officer who spoke as if you were a child, and really could not be as stupid as you appeared.

The third was the rarest. The officer who never raised his voice, but peeled the durasteel from a bulkhead at fifty paces, and you knew, _knew_ that it was only because killing you was their next option.

She had never seen one in action, but the President could have taught a master level class in the technique.

"General Collis, you are here only because of you present aide, Captain Latiforns, as are you, Captain Wollin because you replaced him. You might be innocent of the charges I have made, but you will be part of this nonetheless. You will all be escorted, along with all of those aides you brought today, Brig, to Coresec headquarters where Lieutenant Sana has already had sequestered quarters prepared for you. There you will be questioned by Verifier, and the first question asked will be, 'were you complicit in the cover up of Whereagon'. The second will be, 'were you complicit in the murders of Jason Boro, Conor Pills or Sento Maxin'."

"That is illegal! The commander of Third Army Group roared. "Questioning using Verification can only be done by court order with counsel present! Without that nothing learned is admissible in court! I will not sit here and be accused of any such thing. I am leaving, and anyone with the brains necessary to put on his own shoes will be with me!" He leaned into the table, started to stand, then froze as a knife buried itself in the table between his hands. He looked up at a man with a sergeant's tabs on his uniform. That worthy had the knife's twin held by the point in his hand.

"With all due respect, general, sit back down, or this one is in your eye."

"Why should I sit down then?"

The sergeant shrugged. "Makes no never mind to me, sir. I was thinking of the cleaning crew. Blood is so hard to clean up."

The general collapsed back into his vacated chair.

"That threat was to the point and rather eloquent, sergeant. Why have you never applied to OCS?"

The sergeant shrugged again. "Didn't qualify, sir. My parents were married when I was born."

The President stared at him, then began to snort, then chuckle. Finally he gave in, roaring with laughter as he held his sides. Finally the mirth died it's own natural death. "By all means apply, Sergeant. If anyone complains about you lack of that requirement, tell them I gave you a waiver." He turned back to the men at the other end of the table. "Oh, and gather up your knife. We wouldn't want the general to hurt himself."

The sergeant walked to the end of the table, pulled the blade free, and it seemed to vanish from his hand. "You are all arrested under the Emergency Powers Act."

"Pardon me, Mr. President." The new aide, Wollin commented. "But you have to announce it when you invoke it. There has been no such announcement."

"Actually, young man, the act reads that I must announce it 'in a timely fashion'. Do you think the ones I wanted to catch would have come to this meeting if I had announced it, and why, before I summoned them?"

"Think about it Wollin. You were Alpha Team Lead until day before yesterday." The senior captain commented drily. "Situation appraisal. You are in a room facing eight heavily armed competent men. Your assets are a bunch of Alpha Team rejects, some Generals who would have trouble getting their lead butts out of the chairs, and a Minister of Defense who has never in his life been on the sharp end. Who wins if this becomes a furball?"

The young man glared at the officer, then slammed himself back in the chair in disgust.

"I kinda hope you aren't part of it, boy. If you're not, come back to Special Ops and join a real team."

V

Sleyron was a planet of jungles and wind lashed icy mountains. Mik Doron looked at the imposing structure sourly. The monastic orders through the Republic built monasteries in out of the way locations, some of them downright inhospitable for most life forms to get away from all of the temptations of the world. Of course the same locations were prized by the criminal sects of the galaxy too. So almost as soon as the monks settled in to contemplate whatever they felt they should contemplate, sure as the sun rose, a group of criminals, be it smugglers, slavers, drug lords et al would arrive with armed minions to turf them out.

He didn't know why they even bothered. He walked up to the massive door, took out his sidearm, and pounded on it. It wasn't necessary; he knew they had him on sensors from the moment he had left his ship at the landing stage blown out of this mountain, but he just felt like hitting something.

A large eye shaped sensor stuck out, and he was bombarded by Huttese. He knew it, but never used it. "Tell that fat slug Kitto I am here to talk with him." It gave an interrogatory spiel. "Tell him Mik Doron is here with a little video show, and a friendly warning."

There was a long moment, then the door rose with a squeal. He looked at the two Gammorean guards who came toward him. He raised a hand. "Touch me, and something bad is going to happen to you."

They continued to approach. He waited for a moment, and as the first one reached toward him, snapped his fist with the powered brass knuckles up hard, into the back of the right elbow. The guard clutched the dislocated limb, squealed like the pig he resembled, and backed away. "I told you something bad would happen." He looked at the other. "Escort me if you will. But your friend has used up all of my patience." The guard wisely did as he was told.

The 'throne room' was packed with people who moved back into the corners away from dead center. Bounty hunters mainly, though a lot were thugs who worked for the Hutt, and some dancing girls too. Kitto was a large one, probably a ton in weight. Beside him was a silver colored protocol droid, as was pretty much standard. The Hutt almost never spoke anyone else's language, and naturally assumed anyone not of their race was too stupid to know theirs.

Kitto spoke, and while he understood very well what the slug said, Mik waited for the translation. "The great and exalted Kitto, lord of fifteen worlds thanks you for delivering yourself to him for disposal. In return for your thoughtfulness, he promises that your death will be swift and merciful. Do you wish to thank him for that courtesy?"

"Let's get the communications protocols down right from the start, Silver-sides. You repeat exactly what I say, or he'll be getting a new droid. Second, if you use the words high, and mighty, and exalted, or great, or lord to him as if I had said them, I will personally rip out your Central Processor and install it in the food prep unit on my ship. Oh, by the way," he repeated the words in flawless Huttese. "I will know if they are used.

"Third, I am not turning myself into him. I am going to give him a little view of his own future if he messes with me. I don't usually talk to slugs, I kill them. Now translate that to him, but tell him first he had better listen before he loses his temper. His life is the next thing he will lose. It is not a threat, it is a promise. Because ten seconds after _I _die, _he_ dies."

While droids do not have emotions, protocol droids have a very tough job. Too often someone angry in a negotiation cannot merely punch or shoot his opponent. But he can damage or destroy a machine. Because of the cost, the owners demanded programming making the protocol droids less of a target. They made them obsequious, literally begging for the negotiators to not hurt them. Think of children who cringe when you raise your hand, expecting a beating. Most species stopped destroying them.

Not so the Hutt.

The droid had barely gotten through the 'I'm not using honorifics' before Kitto turned, and slammed it into the wall. There was a screeching, and it fell still.

"Kitto, I will warn you now, smashing your own droids will not scare me. It will just mean you have to convince one of these morons to translate for you when you run out." Doron told him. Kitto bellowed, and some of the men came forward to remove the smashed machine. "I want the CPU from that one." Doron commented. Another droid almost a twin waddled out, and finished translating Doron's full statement, then turned, but kept it's photo receptors on the Hutt. He looked at his watch.

"Your head Hutt Jala put a bounty on myself and my team members for the Whereagon mission. We did carry it out. We did so to raid your primary data base there. We disabled the slave collars and implanted death chips in your slaves. It it they who slaughtered the personnel at the station there. It was they who stole your ship to fly themselves to safety. But if you check the time stamp on the monetary transfers that stole a month of your organization's receipts, you will see that we had already been arrested when that occurred, so we did not steal that money."

That was not completely the truth, though he would never admit it. Trega had seen the amount of their monthly transfers to the Bothan Banking Cartel, and had created a bootstrap program that would take all of the money from the account that next made a transfer, along with any money going to manage their business in that sector, and transfer it through a dizzying array of hypercom transfers until it arrived as a brand new account in the same Bothan Bank from another system. But there had been no way to know which office or planet would make the next transfer, so it had waited until one was authorized. That actual transfer had happened after they were arrested, so it was not completely a lie either.

After all, ships and weapons don't grow on trees.

"But when we escaped, we had no intention to merely let your paid killers take our lives. So we have dealt with that problem. Among the data we obtained was full access to the defense nets of all the planets your organization does business on. We have planted back doors into all of those systems. We can bring them down with a simple command. So I am here to speak to you because at this moment, or rather until five minutes ago, you were the number ten Hutt in the organization." He lifted his holo emitter, and keyed it. The fortress displayed looked not unlike the one he stood in now. "This is our response to that threat."

There was a flash of light, then what looked like a beam of death lanced down, and the resulting flash of plasma ate the building, converting a mighty fortress into a pile of rubble around a smoking crater.

"You might have noticed that there have been no signals. We also control the communications net, so no one could report this until I told you of it." He touched a key on his wrist band, and a comm panel suddenly shrilled. The droid turned, touching a control. There was a spate of rapid terrorized Huttese. Kitto replied, and the voice went on. The Hutt's large eyes widened, and now looked at the obviously insane, but very dangerous human before him.

"I know what he said. A large kinetic energy weapon traveling at 20 percent of light speed has somehow slipped undetected through the defense net, destroyed Jala's palace, killing him and his entourage. Since he is dead, the bounty has died with him. That is standard procedure.

"But we give you fair warning now. We have friends inside the Guild, and will know if it is reinstated. If it is, by anyone, whether in your organization or not, we will merely assume you all wish to die, because we can repeat this as often as we need. If you Hutt are actually so all powerful as you would like to think, you had best make sure it does not happen.

"If one death will not stop you, perhaps ten or more will. If anything happens to any of my people that we feel is a resumption of this vendetta, we will kill the top ten, meaning your sluggy butt is now on the firing line. If it resumes again, the top twenty, and the number will increase until we have killed all of you. There will be no further warnings.

"Have I made myself clear in this?"

"Yet you stand here ready to die." The droid said.

Doron held up his wrist. "Life signs monitor, set to my heartbeat. It cannot be transferred to another person, and if it signals my death, the next ten KEWs are waiting to go this very minute. We Corellians are known gamblers. It's almost a National mania. Want to match the odds with me?"

Kitto glared at him, furious, but unwilling to die to gain his revenge. He motioned toward the door, and slithered off his podium. Doron waited until the CPU was delivered, and took his leave.

He walked back down the path from the fortress, to the _Black Talon_. The ship rested on the edge of the fused earth landing pad, ramp up, her hazard lights flashing. A not too subtle warning that anyone approaching was going to end up rather messily dead. He lifted his hand, then made a gesture with his fingers. The ramp came down as the hazard lights died, and he boarded.

He walked into the mess/lounge area, took the CPU from his pocket, and bent over the food prep unit. He tinkered with it, pouring two cups of tea as he did, then idly said, 'Have fun climbing in the Engine access panel?"

"How did you know?"

He turned, smiling slightly at Sana who sat with her hands flat on the table. Smart girl. "Long and intensive training. Everyone else tries to come up the ramp, whether hot wiring it or when it's open, but we have sensors to detect that. Or they come in through the cargo access hatches. Those are also set for detection, and the system recycles every second, so unless you move fast, the motion of air from outside is detected as well. The only safe way is through the engine access panels. Most people don't set them up for scanning." He shrugged. "I'm not most people. Tea?"

"Please."

He carried the cups across the compartment, setting hers down within easy reach, then took a seat across from her. "Didn't expect to see you again any time soon."

She sipped her tea. "Ithorian thin leaf. You remembered."

"I remember everything about that brief happy time." He replied flatly. "Are you just going to sit there sipping tea at me? Or are you going to explain what you are doing here?"

"The President sent me again, to renew his request."

"Less than a week? That was some damn fine scurrying for cover by him. What's he offering instead of my conditions?"

"Except for the last, he accepts them all."

"So unlike me, he is not ready to die for his country." He sipped his tea. "Or I was, until my country threw me and mine in the recycling bin. What does he offer instead of condition three?"

"How much do you remember from those long ago Civics classes? Do you remember the Emergency Powers Act?"

He cocked his head. "Sure I do. The President can declare a state of emergency, and the rights of the people, go away until it is revoked by Act of Congress. But to revoke it, they require full disclosure of _why_ he invoked it. If the proof is insufficient, they revoke it and anything he did during it is used at his impeachment trial. I also know it has never been invoked."

"Never is such a long time." She sipped appreciatively.

"What haven't you told me."

"The President invoked it to get to the bottom of this entire mess. He questioned everyone on your list, along with their aides under Verifier, and whenever they found another branch to follow, he questioned them too. While the results are secret at the moment, you have been exonerated."

He stared at her for a long time, then she saw his shoulders slump just a little. Then they straightened. "Then he no longer needs me and mine."

She sighed. "I wish that were the case, but when the teams resigned in protest, the backlash was massive. We're not talking about over two _hundred_ men and women who's careers were destroyed. Pensions, honors, security clearances, time in grade not only denied, but physically erased from the Military databanks. It will take months to clean up that mess for even _one_ team and we need a team _now_."

"Ask them." He snapped. "They would do it if you're not lying to me."

She looked at him stricken. "Mik, I have never lied to you, ever." She bit her lip. "Except about that godawful orange jacket you own. Sending them, even if they volunteer, would be illegal."

"And hiring my team would not be?"

"Oh the Consitution does allow the President to authorize expenditures for use of mercenaries in a covert op. But only if they are not Corellian citizens. You and Trega, as convicts, can no longer claim that right. At least until afterward."

"So it's still the red root or the stick?"

Instead of replying, she reached for her pocket.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. I have back up. Say hello to the nice lady, Marel."

"Hello, nice lady." A sweet voice said. Sana turned her head, and could see the Echani woman holding a projectile weapon aimed at her head.

"Don't try her patience, Sana. She can core your head like a halo fruit at this range. With a rifle she can do it from 500 meters without a scope."

Sana carefully turned the chair so her hand was in view, and slowly pulled the holoprojector from her pocket to set on the table. "I thought you would have your bedmate, what's her name, Zakal?- covering you."

"Frankly, Zakal can't hit the broadside of a warehouse unless she's inside it, and even then, she might miss. I use her if I want buildings removed." He motioned toward the projector. Sana keyed it.

The president appeared in midair. "I hope that I am speaking to either Captain Mik Doron, or one of his team that he trusts. I have done everything I can to assure you can return home with no recriminations at all, and I have already issued the pardon you have requests, as you have worded it, along with the disbursement of funds you have asked for. That money is to be considered a gift. While your team has been exonerated, I believe those families have suffered far more than they deserve. Yet I understand why you might still refuse my request, for it is a request.

"Sana has no doubt told you the problem I face. I cannot legally field a team in time to save us from this problem, and time is of the essence. If you wish to merely return home, I will not gainsay you in that.

"But we need you, we need your team, and we need it desperately. Sana has all of the information required to explain the mission, and I do hope that you will accept it before we end up in a war that everyone believes we have started. You may if you wish picture me on my knees begging, though I will not do so in this holo. Message ends."

"Almost makes me wish I had voted for him. "Marel?"

"Sir?"

"Home, and don't spare the hyperdrive."


End file.
